


Black-Eyed

by MelodramaticMrTails



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Breathplay, M/M, Masochism, One Shot, Pseudo-black rom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticMrTails/pseuds/MelodramaticMrTails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You might hate him. You're not too sure. Regardless, that doesn't mean you can't bang him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black-Eyed

You don't realise you're in a hate quadrant until it happens. You've heard other you talk about them before and at the time it sounded like something interesting to explore. Now that you're in one though, its just awfully. Its just as awful as love, but in the complete opposite way. Like falling in love with a person you can’t have, but instead of hating yourself for being so stupid, you hate the other person. You also hate yourself for being so stupid, but it's different.

He’s nothing like Dave. Even little you is at least something like you. The younger Dirk -you don’t care, he can be Dirk if he wants, you’re fine with Bro- is your exact clone with the only differences being the circumstances in which you were brought up and the problems you had to face. You even like the same things. While you do have some experience over him, you’re clearly the same person.

The other Dave is not. You don’t even know what to call him. Superficially, you guess he’s something like your brother. He’s a prima donna, if not an advanced version of one, and he likes the same stupid shit Dave does, and even makes shitty movies in the same style. That’s about as far as it goes. He’s already completely isolated himself. He hates Dave and he has no idea how to react to Dirk. Little you tries so hard to get some sort of approvement out of him and he just awkwardly nods or fucking pets him and it’s hard to watch. They never met in their timeline and you’d almost feel sorry for him if he wasn’t such an asshole.

He doesn’t hate you, or rather didn’t. You guess some sort of him understands that’s you’re just an older version of his brother but he also understands that you’re _not_  him. You’re completely down with all of this. You don’t care. He’s not your Dave, either, and you don’t mind watching little you’s back.

What you’re not downl with are the little comments he makes about your Dave under his breath. You’re not sure if Dave always hears them, and you’re not even sure if he’s supposed to, but you can’t stand it. Generally ‘Alpha’ Dave acts right when your little brothers are around, especially Dirk, but as soon as they’re gone he turns into this closed off, indifferent fuck. You don’t even think he’s trying. It was difficult for all of you to adjust to this new life, but he could at least pretend like he has some god damn sense.

Of course, you wait until it’s just the two of you to confront him about anything. It’s not like he goes out of his way to avoid you like he does with Dave. The fact that he waits until Dave is gone to even wake up is a clear sign of that. He just stands in the kitchen, devising a way to get his junk out of the fridge without being attacked by the collection of shitty swords waiting for whoever’s stupid enough to open it.

You confront him then.

“Dave,” you say and he doesn’t respond. Sometimes he just ignores you, but other times you know for a fact that he just gets too caught up in his own head to pay attention to much else. He’s just as bad of a rambler as Dave, except he doesn’t allow it outloud. Not when there’s people around, anyways. You’ve heard him mumbling to himself in his room before, and often since.

“Dave,” you say again. He looks at you this time, pushing his shades up in a manner you know is a defensive act for him.

“nah bro” he answers. “call me david if you call me dave i never know if you’re talking to me or the little copy cat”

“He’s a clone,” you correct. David stops looking at you.

“mm” he says with all the interest in the world. It pisses you the fuck off.

“And you need to watch what you say around him.”

“what??” David asks, glancing at you only momentarily before snatching an apple juice out of the fridge with, unfortunately, no casualties. You’re going to put more in there.

“That shit you keep saying under your breath. You need to knock it off.”

“you need to stay the fuck out of my business bro” he assures you. He tries to walk past you and you shove him against the counter without actually thinking about it. He doesn’t react to you. “sorry bro i don’t have enough pocket change to pay for a blow job right now”

He makes you so mad and you don’t know why. Before you can rethink your decision, the two of you are crossing swords harder than a triple x gay porno. You don't think he's older than you, especially considering what short time lasted in his timeline, but he's skilled as fuck. From an outside view, the two of you would likely appear to be equally fast but you know this is untrue. He's faster than you. Not by much but by enough for him to get the advantage over you if you're not careful. It's more than quickness, though, he's actually a far more skilled swordsman than you are. Regardless of his age, he somehow managed to get way more training in than you had.

You counter this by putting out slightly more force than you actually want to, striking harder blows and stiffer blocks than his smaller form simply can't compete with. You don’t like doing this because it puts you in a position for him to use this slight advantage against you. And he does. You know he does but you currently don’t have any other choice. You get a little better each time, but so does he. It’s like a game of cat and mouse where the fucking mouse bites the shit out of you every fucking time.

That little bit of extra force you put down in a blow is enough to set you just slightly off when he, instead of blocking you, tilts his blade just enough for your sword to glide across it. It’s bad as fuck for the blades, but neither of you are thinking of that right now. In battles between you two, slights are massive. So while you try to recover your own blade in a draw back after having been thrown _slightly_  more forward than you wanted by your own force and not enough friction, David hits you hard in the throat with the spine of his sword.

And it’s set match.

Neither of you move. Your skin’s already bruised from where he’s hit you before. The little shit does it on purpose. There’s always a quiet dare afterwards, where you stay perfectly still and dare him to turn his sword around and he stays perfectly still and dares you to strike him down. Neither of you do, and likely never will. All hate and dislike aside, you both known all too intimately what it’s like to die and have no wish to relive it, nor wish it on anyone else. Simultaneously, you back away from each other, but neither of you put your swords away.

You don’t because you don’t trust him not to take a cheap shot at you. You assume he doesn’t for the same reason. He takes his apple juice and returns to his room and you withhold the want to take a cheap shot at him. You hate him. How can he be so different from Dave?

You don’t bother confronting him about it again. It's obvious he’s not going to listen to you. You end up talking to Dave, instead, assuring him that David is an asshole and probably a lot more broken then he seems, so there’s no point in getting upset over what he says. Turns out, Dave hadn’t heard what he says. You back out of that conversation fast as fuck. At least David has enough sense not to actually try to fuck with Dave.

Which means he’s fucking with you.

You have to wait until you’re alone again to confront him about this. It’s actually rather difficult, considering Dirk is just as much of a home body as you were at his age. And just as hungry. Do you know how much money you had to spend to feed that kid? Well, okay, you’re loaded, but come on. You have to feed the kid a medium sized family three to four times a day. And when he’s not home, Dave’s usually fucking around in his room.

You finally have to kick them out to get any peace and quiet. You’re not fully sure why you do this, especially considering you should be trying to put off this discussion as long as possible and relish the fact that Dirk’s usually here to buffer any potentially dangerous strifes. But no. You give them some money and tell them to go see a movie or something with their weird troll friends and get laid.

And then there were two. Well two and a bird. You’re still a little fuzzy on where the snarky little asshole bird came from? Whatever. David’s already absconded to his room like the non confrontal asshole he is. You should leave him alone and you know this, but you don’t. There’s just something driving you to fuck with him and you’re not one to go against your instincts.

“Yo, David.” You tap on his door as you are a civilized person and can go about this in a civilized fashion. There’s no light coming from under the door, but you know he generally works in the dark, anyways. That’s why his eyes are fucked up.

“fuck no you can’t bail on me right now bro- go the fuck away! -no not you no don’t- fucking hell” Oh good. You bothered him while he was doing something important. He opens his door but he doesn’t look disturbed in the slightest. At this point, you’re not sure if this is a facade he puts on for you, or if the facade is the one he puts on for Dirk. Both are equally likely.

“did you want something or are we going to stare at each other for the next twenty minutes??”

“Me and you need to talk, bro. Face to face all man like and share our deepest feelings like the sweetest Mexican drama.”

“su madre era una patata” He tries to close the door on you and you shove your foot in it automatically.

“No man, I’m serious. Also, I’m telling Rose. You need to stop talking about Dave the way you do.”

“didn’t we just have this conversation and didn’t you lose wickedly?”

So you put hands on him. You wrap one hand around his throat and you both manage to be at least a little startled by this development. David more so than yourself. This is probably because you’d never dream of handling Dave in this manner at all; ever. Strifes are a completely different story, of course, but you would _never_  put hands on him. You suppose you’ve already rationalised that David is not Dave.

David recovers faster than you and responds. He catches his hand on your chin, pressing his fingers into prime spots to fracture your jaw with some effort. His freakishly long limbs mean you can’t pull out of his reach without letting him go and, unfortunately, you do not want to let him go. You still have the upper hand, though. You’re not quite sure what it’s for. You need to let him go.

He tries to back away from you and you naturally follow him, tightening your hold on him. The only light in his room comes from his computer screen, but it’s enough for you to see him, and furthermore, it turns his shades translucent. This is not what you had in mind, not that it matters when your mind effectively leaves whenever you try to interact with David. This is going to be an issue.

You rifle through your options. You have no options. That’s a lie, you have plenty of options, your brain just won’t tell you any of them because it’s too busy telling your eyes not to blink. Because blinking is a crime now.

There’s no way for you to know if you pushed him or he pulled you, but you’re now pinning him against the bed and the obvious solution is to fuck him seven ways from Sunday. You have no idea why this is the solution, out of everything, that you come to, but you don’t exactly dismiss it immediately. There would be an immense satisfaction in holding him down and fucking him until he can’t use his mouth right.

Of course, you’re not an asshole and there would be absolutely no excuse for that kind of behavior. You’d need consent, which is the only thing wrong with this idea obviously. Considering you’re sitting on him with your hand around his stringy throat and his nails are ripping a good bit of flesh off your face, you’re pretty sure that’s not where his mind is.

“let go on the count of three”

“One,”

“two”

“Three,” and you both release one another simultaneously, though neither of you retreat. His hand hovers near your face for a moment and your by his throat, just cautiously making sure the other isn’t going to try anything fishy. You came here to discuss his attitude problem.

“are you gonna fucking stick your dick in me or what you’re awfully close there bro”

“Be careful what you wish for, bro.” Welp there goes your train of thought. That’s a big surprise.

“why does your crotch say choking hazard small parts??”

“I hope you can revive that joke. I think it’s older than you are.”

“aw bro don’t feel down it ain’t have nothing on you”

“Sounds like someone’s not getting enough vitamin D in their diet.”

Cue the staring. Honestly you’re amazed you get anything done in this house sometimes. You really do need to have a discussion, but that’s not about to happen. His hand snaps to your face again and instinctually, you grab his throat again. This time he’s kissing you. Well, not exactly. There’s more teeth than anything else and he’s trying viciously to remove your piercings fortunately with little success.

“Watch the teeth, you little shit.”

“sorry forgot i was dealing with prince tender body” David presses his nails into your cheeks and you press down firmer on his neck. He snaps his hips against you, though it’s less of a struggling motion and more arousal, his hard on grinding against you fleetingly. You should have more doubts about doing something like this, but you don’t. You have none to be specific. At the very least, you should feel guilty, but you so don’t. He’s a fucking asshole and that’s all that’s relevant right now.

The button of his jeans unsnaps easily and that’s about as far as you get because his jeans are like a fucking constrictor against his skin and you’ll have to physically let him go if you want to get them off. If you have to let him go, you might as well do it with style. You let go of his throat in order to grab at his arm. With a bit of force and some fighting, you manage to detach his hand from your face and shove him onto his side face down.

He’s not going to stay there and you didn’t expect him too. There are no ill consequences from using your strength against him now, which is absolutely gold to you. You press your knee into one of his arms and hold his head firmly into the mattress with one hand while you uncaptchalogue your sword with the other.

“don’t you fucking dare”

You wedge the tip of your blade under the waistband of his skinny jeans and with a fluid movement, cut them straight down the seam, ‘accidentally’ knicking him in the process.

“those were good fucking pants” he complains and is ignored. You drop your sword for swifter action, gripping his thigh tightly with one hand and his upper arm with the other to keep him in a submissive position. He doesn’t exactly try to break free, he clearly knows he’s too small for that, but you have to be careful all the same. He’s sly as fuck and you’d be impressed if you weren’t so fucking pissed about it.

You’re right to be careful because one of his legs swings around and catches you hard in the temple, knocking your shades away. You let go of his hip to grab his ankle and holy shit is he flexible. You’re not fully sure how he even got his foot up here.

“You didn’t tell me you had practice being on your stomach,” you tease him, ignoring the anger that comes hand in hand with being kicked in the face and using this new discovery to your advantage. After all, it was never really your intention to injure him and now you have one less thing to worry about. You press his arm flush against his upper back and he wriggles his fingers calmly.

“you sure are stalling a lot there bro if you need some more time to get it up then just let me know no biggie lot of old dudes have trouble”

You adjust your hand from the back of his head back to his neck, jerking his knees slightly with your own to get him in the proper position to pin down. Not to mention an even better position to grind your dick against the cleft of his ass. You only got half of his pants off, vertically, but it’s not really an issue when he’s not wearing underwear, anyways. There’s probably at least a single pair of underpants in this house, but they likely don’t actually belong to anyone here.

“Nah. I was just making sure you were ready, but I guess it wouldn’t matter to plush rump like yours,” you promise, releasing his neck and smacking his bare leg hard, making sure to catch some of that fresh cut in the process. He hisses lowly. You press your thumb into it to hear that noise again.

“wrong hole, fucknut”

“I don’t know, David. I’ve heard you were into some kinky shit.”

“hey man whatever gets you off”

He’s still talking so you’re doing something wrong. You withdraw a bottle of lube from your sylladex. This ought to shut him up. You snap the lid open and with porn star accuracy, drip it cooling between his legs. You run a pair of fingers between his cheeks momentarily before thrusting them in and earning pleasing grunt.

“You should definitely lay off the smuppets, David,” you say, grinding and twisting your fingers with enough force to rock him forward.

“hey at least they’re useful for something” he manages back but you can hear him grind his teeth. You fish your hard cock out from your jeans, slicking yourself with your lubed fingers. Last call for decency vile. Nope. All aboard the regret amtrak. Estimated flight time, seven hours. You glide your dick between his asscheeks pressing his arm and thus his back down into the mattress to prop his ass up further. Your hand fits around his hip perfectly so you pull at his skin with your thumb to show off his anus.

“seriously if you’re having an issue just say so it’s under-”

You thrust into him hard and quick, straight down to the hilt. He chokes on the end of his sentence and you smirk.

“Careful, David. Small parts and all,” you warn him mockingly. Now’s the perfect time to test his wonderful flexibility. While he’s clawing the sheet you grab a handful of his hair and yank him backward. He bends with amazing dexterity. Fuck. That’s arousing.

“That’s some grade a contorsism right there,” you actually compliment him. You can see him grind his teeth. You palm his throat and keep him upward in the awkward curve and grind your hips flush against him, watching him flinch and exhale sharply.

“do what you gotta you know the deal” he replies slicking his tongue over the corner of his lip. He’s a smug little bastard. You return his favor, tilting his head back far enough to viciously bite his lower lip and leave visible marks for later. He groans against you. He’s actually getting off on this. You’re not actually surprised.

“If you wanted me to fuck you raw, all you had to do was ask,” you punctuate with a violent thrust. He sucks in a shudder of a breath. It takes a moment for him to respond but you just patiently wait, rocking teasingly against him.

“figured you were more of a barracuda kind of man”

“I don’t like labeling things,” you assure him vigorously. If he plans on answering, you don’t let him. Instead, you dig your fingers into his skin and squeeze down on his throat. He grabs at your wrist hastily, gripping your skin with distant fingers before they fall away again. His shades are laying on his pillow giving you a clear look at his crisp reds before he closes them.

For a moment, you almost forget why you hate him so much. Then you remember again. You press down on his throat until he has to crack his lips to breathe and then you squeeze harder. You like him better when he doesn’t talk. He’s definitely struggling now, if not just. You'll only give way when absolutely necessary. He can take more.

“Don’t pass out, you little shit,” you warn, rubbing your hips into his smoothly. You lean over him, groaning contently with each rut, and press your tongue against his eyelid. He makes a strangled noise that was probably to be a whine but doesn’t survive to his lips. When you let him go, he drops his head forward and chokes on his first breath of air. He heaves mildly, shoulders wracking with his desperate attempt to control himself. You feel him convulse under you after a bit of delay.

“I didn’t realise it would be _that_  easy to make you orgasm.” David has to take a moment to compose his voice before he tilts his head to look back at you.

“lots of guys have a problem reaching that finish line it’s nothing to be ashamed of” You like him better when he doesn’t talk. This is easily remedied. You withdraw only to pivot back in violently and it tears a gasp from his oversensitive body. He didn’t think this through completely, did he? You twist him onto his side, dragging his wrist together to pin above his head and hoisting one of his twiggy legs over your shoulder.

“Thanks, David. I knew I could count on you to help me,” you say and he grins at you, but you can tell the nervous inflection behind it. It’s always easier to tell without the shades.

“no problem dirk”

You don’t hesitate to use him for your own pleasure and little more, thrusting into him again and again. Each rough movement draws another, different noise from him and your ears fill with the sounds of his moans and whines despite his efforts to hold them back. They’re made up entirely of pleasure. Dude’s a masochist. This does slightly surprise you.

“Fuck,” you grunt. Later you’ll rationalise this with the argument ‘it’s been a while’. You bruise his wrists when you come, not even bothering to pull out. You can feel him shudder with his outbreath. When you withdraw, several droplets of cum dribble out. All reasons why this was a bad idea aside, you probably should have grabbed a condom at least. What the fuck is wrong with you?

David’s actually quiet on his own for once, pacing his breathing calmly. You pick up your glasses, making sure they’re not damaged before donning them and tucking yourself back into your jeans. Time for the walk of shame back to your room-slash-living room. You’re sure to pick up your sword first, of course.

“so how much do i owe you??” David asks. You turn swiftly, ‘accidentally’ cutting down an entire shelf of his stupid collection of shitty movies.

“ah bro!”

“For you? It’s on the house,” you promise.

“i had first additions in that!”

“Don’t expect a discount next time.”

Actually, you don’t feel nearly as guilty for screwing your brother’s clone as you probably should. Granted, you are into some weird shit and you do know the difference between your actual brother and that flexible fucker. You’re also probably rationalising having done something terrible, but looking at your life so far, you deserve a pass on this.

You are suspicious now, though. It seems unlikely that David actually hates you between the fact that Dave clearly isn’t meant to hear his insults, he’s into some weird shit himself, and there was obviously some goading going on. That being said, you’re not exactly against being in a pseudo hateship with him for the time being. You still might actually hate him, after all. It a problem that could use some scooping out. Scooping out that is to be done preferably any time after a shower. Which is to be done now simply so David can’t.


End file.
